


Baby, I Like it Rough

by hunter_king



Series: Supernatural - Wincest [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Altered States, Barebacking, M/M, Slash, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter_king/pseuds/hunter_king
Summary: Dean came back from Hell different. Then Sam came back from Hell different. Now, Dean plans to take advantage of his brother's new lack of a soul.





	Baby, I Like it Rough

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the SMPC challenge. Originally posted in September.  
> Prompt fill for Falka88

“Dammit, Dean, lay off!” Sam yelled as he shoved the door to their motel room open. “I don't want to hear another word about how I fucked up your conquest for the evening! Obviously, if the woman wanted you, she wouldn't have given up so easily!”

Angrily, Dean slammed the door behind him, throwing the deadbolt into place. “Oh, she wanted me, Sam!” Dean assured his brother. “She was practically ready to crawl into my lap before you came over and started bitching!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he threw his duffel on the bed he'd claimed as his when they'd gotten there a few days ago. “Bobby has been on our ass about this damn cure for your current problem, Dean! He doesn't call you to bother you about it, though! He calls _me_! Sometimes up to four times a day! So don't get pissy with me when you're the one wasting time that we don't have to waste!”

The anger inside Dean grew. He'd been horny for almost a week with no release and he was on edge because of it. And Lord knows he wasn't getting anything in this motel room. Sam hadn't touched him since he got back from Hell. Not since he'd become a demon. Then again, that was before Sam took a trip down under himself and came back topside missing that pesky little soul of his.

Now that Dean thought about it, Sam probably wouldn't care that he's a demon. Not this Sam, anyway. “Maybe I don't need to be fixed, Sam!” Dean argued. “I've been this way for a couple years now and so far, the world hasn't ended.” Tilting his head, Dean added, “I seem to recall that I _helped_ the world from ending after you jump started the damn apocalypse.”

Again, Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. “I'm not the one who's intent on fixing you,” he explained. “Bobby's the one who wants that. I personally would rather be out there hunting the alphas. They're the real threat here.”

So, Sam didn't see him as a threat? Dean could fix that. “I think there's something out there even a little more important than those alphas too, Sammy.” Slowly, Dean stalked towards his brother, eyes raking over Sam's body. He remembered what that boy looked like under his clothes. Sure, Sam looked like he may have filled out a little more in the last year, but that just made him more desirable.

Scoffing, Sam toed off his boots. “What's more important than finding out why all of the alphas are suddenly coming out to play?” the younger Winchester asked. Shaking his head, Sam continued, “Samuel thinks this is serious. He said people are going to get hurt. It's dangerous.”

“So am I, Sammy,” Dean warned the younger man. “You forget that about me, don't you?” He was almost close enough to touch now. “My sexual appetite is large, Sammy. And if you're going to cock block me at every turn, I think it's only fair that you pick up the slack.”

It was obvious that Dean was on edge. Sam knew how his brother got when he couldn't have sex. But he wasn't in the mood to stay out somewhere all night while Dean got his jollies off. Not when his time could be better spent doing research.

He almost missed Dean's comment, and suddenly realized that his brother was standing a lot closer than he normally did. “Stop being dramatic, Dean,” Sam chastised. “I do not cock block you at every turn. Only when we have work to do, and you can't seem to get your priorities straight.”

A small smirk came to Dean's lips as he allowed his eyes to rake over Sam's body. His cock jumped in his jeans as he remembered all of the time his little brother was writhing underneath him. “My priorities are just fine, Sammy,” he assured the younger Winchester. “I need to fuck something. And you're the only thing I got right now.”

Angrily, Sam shook his head. “No, Dean,” he protested, pushing past his brother. “I'm not having sex with you. We've talked about this.” Sure, it had been years since Dean had even suggested it, but Sam remembered the conversation like it had been yesterday.

Dean almost growled in frustration when Sam shoved past him. “Dammit, Sam,” he started, one hand shooting out to grab a hold of Sam's elbow. “That was _years_ ago! You can't tell me that you of all people are worried about the fact that I'm a demon.” Shaking his head, Dean continued, “No, it's something else, isn't it, Sammy? Maybe this new persona you've created is just too much of a control freak to submit to big brother like you used to.”

Leaning in, Dean whispered, “You know you like it when my dick's shoved so far up your ass that you don't know where I end and you begin.” A cocky grin pulled to his lips when the smell of Sam's arousal assaulted his senses.

Heat spread unbidden through Sam's body as his brain was bombarded with memories of his and Dean's previous escapades. It hadn't happened often, but when it did, it had been electric. Every nerve ending in Sam's body had felt like it was on fire – he hadn't been able to get enough of Dean. And even on nights that it didn't happen, Sam had spent his time wishing that it had.

But that was back then. That was the old Sam. Now, Sam couldn't care less. Did he like sex? Yes, of course – he was a man, after all. But did he have the same desire for Dean like he'd used to? Absolutely not. And maybe in the past, he'd submitted, as Dean had so politely put it, but this time, if they were going to do this, it was going to be on Sam's terms. 

“You're right,” Sam admitted, head turning so that his lips were practically brushing against Dean's when he spoke. “I don't care if you're a demon. And I remember everything about what happened between us in the past. I even remember how much I wanted it, even when you didn't.” Dean had to know that Sam had been in love with him since he was old enough to realize what the feeling was – even if Sam hadn't spilled the beans on that one. 

He wasn't going to lie. Actually, he knew that he couldn't when it came to Dean. The older Winchester had a knack for being able to tell when Sam was being dishonest. “But you're also right about me not submitting,” Sam continued. “I haven't in a _long_ time, and I won't start now.” Slowly, he squared his shoulders, chest puffed out in a display of testosterone and defiance. “So instead of worrying about your dick, Dean, maybe we could focus on the case? Or the cure? Up to you.”

Again, Dean felt the anger inside him boiling. It was like a pot left on the stove too long, just bubbling up until it finally overflowed. Dean was at that point. His arm pulled back moments before he allowed his fist to fly forward, catching Sam on his jaw. He didn't give the younger man a chance to recover before he hit him again, this time catching Sam on the cheek, sending his brother to one knee with the force of the punch.

The next punch was blocked. Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrist and jerked hard. Dean stumbled a moment before he regained his footing. It was all the time Sam needed to get off the ground. He threw a punch of his own. His knuckles ached with the force of the blow when they came into contact with Dean's jaw. 

Before Dean had a chance to recover, Sam grabbed the back of his jacket. Dean grunted in pain when Sam's knee connected with his gut. While Dean was bent over, trying to catch his breath again, Sam connected an upper cut, watching Dean fly backwards into the kitchenette table. Dean was up again before Sam knew it; a drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

As soon as Dean started bleeding, Sam was laser focused on the red liquid. It had been over a year since he'd had a taste – since he'd _wanted_ a taste – but now it was staring him right in the face. Normally, Sam would have tried to hide his desire. Now, he didn't care. Dean threw another punch and Sam managed to block it again. It was just a diversionary tactic though. Dean landed a blow to Sam's ribcage with his free hand.

Because his focus was elsewhere, Sam barely felt it. Quickly, Sam shoved Dean back. Again, Dean fell into the table. Sam didn't wait for him to recover. Instead, Sam surged forward. One hand cupped the back of Dean's head, fingers scraping against the older man's scalp as he yanked him up for a bruising kiss. The blood exploded on his tongue. He was so hungry for it. But the cut was already healing. He nipped at Dean's plush lips, growling softly when they became red and swollen. 

Dean's hands were on Sam's hips faster than a fat kid at a cake buffet. He used his grip to shove Sam backward, his hips all but slamming into Sam's when the younger man's back hit the motel wall. His cock was hard enough to cut glass, trapped in his jeans, Dean rubbing against Sam like a cat in heat. Anything to relieve some of the pressure in his nether regions.

Skilled fingers worked open the fastening of Sam's belt before he popped the button and zipper of Sam's jeans. “Gonna make you cum so hard for me, Sammy,” Dean promised, mouth against Sam's neck, biting his brother's delicate skin hard enough to bruise. “Just like we used to, baby. Been too fucking long.”

Roughly, Sam shoved both Dean's button up shirt and his jacket off his shoulders, using the fabric to pin Dean's arms against his sides. He then reached for Dean's jeans, quickly getting them open. As soon as he had access, Sam shoved his hand into Dean's jeans, biting into his bottom lip when he realized Dean wasn't wearing any boxers. “So confident you were going to get laid tonight that you didn't even wear underwear, Dean?” Sam asked, chuckling softly. “You're kind of cocky, do you know that?”

“Oh Sammy, you and I both know just how cocky I am,” Dean teased, hips bucking into Sam's hand. As quickly as possible, Dean wiggled his way out of his jacket and button up, growling in frustration when it took longer than he'd liked. “Wearing too many clothes, little brother,” he chastised. Much like Sam had done, Dean shoved both Sam's jacket and flannel off his shoulders, practically ripping them from Sam's body. He then dragged Sam's T-shirt over his head before he grabbed Sam's wrist and shoved it down his pants again to wrap around his rock hard dick.

One hand still wrapped around Sam's wrist, Dean used his free hand to pull at Sam's jeans. He growled in frustration when Sam pulled his hand away and shoved at his chest, forcing Dean back. 

Sam didn't waste any time with the new space he'd been given. He stripped Dean out of his black T-shirt before he shoved him again. Dean stumbled backward, tripping over the divide where the kitchenette began, and fell on his ass. Sam took the opportunity to crawl on top of Dean, fingers wrapping around his brother's wrists as he dragged Dean's arms above his head and pinned them there.

A wide grin came to Sam's lips when Dean started struggling under him. “C'mon, Dean,” he cooed with a breathy chuckle. “Don't act like you never thought about how good it would feel to have the tables turned.” He shoved both of Dean's wrists into one hand, his free hand sliding down Dean's chest to tease his nipple. “Want my big cock shoved so far inside you that you'll feel me next week, big brother.”

As soon as Sam's hand was on his nipple, Dean groaned in pleasure. His back arched off the floor, pressing his body closer to Sam. “You're wrong,” he assured his brother with a shake of his head. “We've always done it a certain way for a reason, Sammy.” Quickly, Dean bucked his hips, throwing Sam off balance. Sam's grip on his wrists disappeared as he watched Sam try to steady himself. Dean took the opportunity to grip his brother's hips, flipping them over so that he was now between Sam's spread legs. “You're _my_ bitch, baby. Not the other way around,” he whispered in Sam's ear, licking the shell before he bit down on Sam's earlobe.

Hissing in a mixture of pain and pleasure, Sam jerked his head away from Dean. His fingers bit into Dean's biceps when he grabbed him again. The groan that escaped Dean was swallowed up in their kiss, Sam's hands shoving Dean's jeans down his thighs as far as he could in his current position. “Get these off,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, Dean helped Sam with his jeans, kicking the material off once it was pooled around his ankles. Once his jeans were off, Dean wasted no time getting Sam naked, too. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of Sam's thigh, lust-filled moss green eyes staring up at his brother from under heavy lids. Once he'd bitten into the skin, Dean pressed his tongue against the wound, trying to soothe the sting.

While Dean was preoccupied licking his way back up Sam's body, the younger Winchester used it to his advantage. Quickly, he flipped them again, using his larger body frame to pin Dean to the ground once more. His hips ground against Dean's, rubbing their cocks together just this side of painful as Sam crushed their lips together once more. Dean liked affection from what he remembered – he loved it when Sam kissed him and pressed close. There was no reason to change what their relationship had been before, he thought.

Another groan escaped Dean as Sam rubbed their hips together. His brother was teasing him. Damn soulless asshole. He wasn't sure what Sam was playing at here – they weren't making love like he and Sam had done in the past. There was no need for this foreplay. Dean just wanted to get his dick wet and then move on. After all, this wasn't Sam. Not the _real_ Sam, anyway – not the Sam he wanted.

However, when Dean felt Sam's hand on this thigh, spreading his legs wider, Dean knew what he was trying to pull. Anger bubbled inside him again at the nerve this version of his brother had. “Dammit, Sam,” he growled, shoving at the younger Winchester's chest. “I said _no_!”

He was done playing games. Pushing himself off the ground, he forced Sam onto his back once more. This time, Dean used his demon powers to pin his brother to the floor. Inky black eyes locked on Sam's emotionless features, a deep scowl on Dean's face. “You've lost your privileges,” he explained, settling between Sam's legs once more. He spit into his palm then, stroking himself from root to tip several times to get himself at least somewhat lubricated. “You're just lucky I'm a nice person. Otherwise, you wouldn't even be getting this much for lube.”

When Sam realized he couldn't move, he growled in frustration. “Dammit, Dean, that's cheating!” he complained. “You're such a damn control freak.” He had to admit, watching Dean's fingers disappear between his plush lips was a sight. And while he didn't really feel pain like he used to, he was at least grateful that Dean was willing to lube him up with spit before he just pounded into him. 

“You love it,” Dean assured his brother. He thrust both of his spit-slick fingers into Sam's tight hole at once, groaning when Sam's inner muscles clenched around him. Dean could hardly wait to get his dick inside Sam, remembering what those muscles felt like gripping his cock. The thought almost had him blowing his load before they even got to the good part. 

Because he was so eager, Dean didn't give Sam much preparation before he was pulling his fingers out and lining up his dick. He slowly pushed into his brother, letting Sam adjust inch by inch. It was agonizingly slow, but Dean didn't want to hurt Sam. Injured Sam meant no more sex – he planned on getting a repeat performance _very_ soon. After all, while Bobby was trying to cure him, the older hunter was also trying to figure out a way to shove Sam's soul back into him. And if that happened, Sam would go back to not letting Dean touch him until he was cured. And Dean didn't want to be cured.

Once Dean was bottomed out against Sam, he stilled, arms shaking with the strength it took to hold still. “Fuck...so tight, Sammy,” Dean moaned. His head dipped to suck at Sam's neck, nipping at the delicate flesh there once more.

A deep groan escaped Sam when Dean was all the whole way inside him. The feeling was...unpleasant to say the least. Sam hadn't allowed anyone to be this intimate with him since his brother had come back from Hell. The only thing Sam was used to were his own fingers. And that was before he came topside after playing Lucifer's fun little games in the cage.

If Sam could feel emotions, he was sure that humiliation would have been the right word to describe it. Here he was, laid out on the floor, with his brother fucking him. And he was enjoying it. But it wasn't how he'd pictured this night going. Though, if he was being honest with himself, Sam did love it when Dean was a control freak. It turned him on. It gave him a rush to be able to defy Dean. And these days, Sam didn't really get excited about much. It was more about going through the motions.

 _Robo Sam_ – that's what Dean liked to call him. It was almost like his brother was trying to get a rise out of him, though that never worked. Sam could admit there was something different about him since he had no soul. He didn't sleep. Didn't really eat much. And he didn't feel...well, _anything_ really. Pain sometimes, but it took a lot. Even now, with the lack of preparation Dean gave him, Sam should have been feeling like he'd been split in two, but he wasn't. He felt fine actually. 

And when he shifted his hips now that Dean had released his demonic hold on him, he felt pleasure shoot through his body. “Ungh...God,” he gasped, eyes practically rolling back into his head as his body reacted to Dean. “Do that again.”

Chuckling, Dean pulled his hips back, slamming back into Sam. His brother's hands gripped at his biceps, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to bruise as he practically screamed in pleasure. “Can't tell me you didn't miss this, Sammy,” he breathed, repeating his earlier actions. He planted one foot on the floor just under Sam's thigh, giving himself more leverage as he pulled his hips back again. “Sammy,” he gasped as his brother's inner muscles clamped down on him. “God, baby, I've missed this so much.”

Sam hadn't experienced this in quite a while. His body was responding in ways he now knew only Dean could achieve. This wasn't like sex he'd had with random women, or men, he'd found in some no name town while he was on a hunt trying to blow off steam. This was _Dean_. Sam should have known his brother would know how to make his body sing. After all, they'd only spent every waking minute of their lives together for the most part.

“Love this, don't you, Sammy?” Dean whispered as he pistoned his hips inside his brother. He made sure to hit Sam's prostate with each thrust. Dean knew how Sam liked it, and he was going to make his little brother scream his name by the time they were done here. “My perfect little bitch, huh? I knew as soon as I was inside you, you'd be begging for me to keep going.”

Roughly, Dean gripped Sam's shaggy hair, pulling his head back almost painfully. “Do it, Sammy,” he ordered. His head dipped to scrape his teeth against Sam's Adam's apple. “Beg for me. You know you want to.”

He did love it. What was the point in lying? Dean seemed to be enjoying himself, so why couldn't Sam? There was just one thing missing. Hastily, Sam reached for his aching member between them, his large hand wrapping around his length. Before he could get any relief though, his hand was slapped away. He knew it was pinned to the floor using demonic force when he couldn't get it to move on command. “Dean,” he whined, eyes squeezing tightly closed in pleasure when Dean's cock hit that sweet spot inside him again. “C'mon, man. If I can't touch it, then you better.”

Again, Dean chuckled. Slowly, he shook his head, making a _tsk_ sound in Sam's ear. “Baby, you're not going to need anyone to touch you when I'm finished with you,” he promised. He slammed his cock into Sam then, rolling his hips against his brother's, eliciting a moan from both men. “Beg for it, Sammy.”

The pleasure rolling through him seemed to have short circuited his brain. Sam was sure that he couldn't form a complete sentence. However, when Dean's hand wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezed painfully, Sam groaned in displeasure. If Dean wanted him to beg, he'd do it. If that's what it took to get off, Sam would do whatever the hell Dean wanted. “Dean,” he panted, head tossing from side to side on the carpet. “Please? Please let me go. Please, D, let me cum. Please?”

At the nickname, Dean shudder in pleasure. He loved it when Sam called him that. “Yeah baby, okay,” he whispered, releasing Sam's cock and instead burying his fist in Sam's hair. His other hand gripped Sam's hip tightly, pulling the younger Winchester back to meet each of his brutal thrusts. “C'mon Sammy,” he ground out, a fine sheen of sweat now covering both of their bodies. “M'gonna cum. Let go, baby. Cum with me.”

As always, Sam's body responded to Dean. It was like he was powerless to disobey the order. His back arched off the floor, pressing his chest closer to Dean's as heat pooled low in his belly. Hot, white jets of cum shot from his cock when Dean thrust inside him for the final time, splashing onto both of their chests and bellies. His fingers dug into Dean's back, leaving red scratches on the older Winchester's tanned skin. “Fuck,” he panted out when Dean rolled off him, his brother's own cum leaking from his abused hole.

“I know,” Dean answered, obviously amused. The anger he was feeling earlier was completely gone now that he'd gotten off. If Sam wanted to, they could focus on the case now. Or...they could have a little more fun. Dean was voting for the latter. His cock was already starting to twitch at the thought. A little bit of foreplay from Sam, and Dean would be ready to go again in no time.

Rolling his head to the side so he could look at his brother, Dean sighed. “So,” he started, tongue dragging over his plush lips. “I'm going to leave this up to you. How about instead of worrying about this case, or the cure, we worry about my dick?” Reaching into his duffel, Dean hooked his index finger around the cuffs he kept in there, pulling them out so his brother could see them, smiling down at Sam as he propped himself up on his elbow. “Again? Up to you.”


End file.
